Comfort
by Tika Cichowski
Summary: In the hours after Sam's death, Dean takes comfort from an old friend and oddly enough, his brother. ONESHOT


He pounded on the door, his heart breaking. How could something like this have happened? He was supposed to protect him that had always been his job. What had possessed him to leave and drive nearly three hours to see her? She probably wouldn't even care.

Swallowing hard and blinking back tears he pounded harder. Where the hell was she? She said she was always home and always there for them.

The porch light flickered on and he heard the locks click back. The door opened and there she stood, her dark auburn hair glistening in the light and her dark eyes wide with shock.

"Dean?" her voice was soft and concerned.

Somehow seeing her made him let the tears fall; she'd seen him cry before and it had never been a pretty picture. Forcing a watery smile he replied, "Hey Sakina. Listen I thought you should know…"

He trailed off and tears fell faster down his cheeks. It worried her, one she hadn't seen him in close to three years and two he was crying harder than she'd ever seen him. Gently she reached out and touched his arm. "Why don't you come in for a little bit?"

Opening his mouth to say something but all that came out was a low groan. It hurt too much to think about, to think about him lying there so cold and lifeless. It helped to think about other things, like on the way over he thought about the car, about girls he'd seduced, and hunts that hadn't involved his best friend.

Sakina furrowed her brow in worry. This wasn't like Dean and it scared the hell out of her. "Come in, I'll put some tea on."

Tea, he thought dully as she turned and walked deep into the house; he followed slowly his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. It was interesting that the one person he turned to gave him what he wanted since the accident, comfort. He also found it fascinating that her name meant comfort in Arabic.

He sat at the table when he walked into the kitchen. It was such a pretty kitchen, something that seemed to come out of a Martha Stewart magazine. All the cupboards were painted white with knobs, with a sponged blue splashboard. He watched her, her movements soothing, so normal, the one thing he would have enjoyed.

Taking a seat opposite of him she watched him carefully. His eyes were red and still watery and he looked so lost. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

His hazel eyes focused on her brown ones that were filled with worry. How did he just come out and say that their best friend was dead and he didn't know what exactly to do? Drawing a stuttering breath he began the story.

He found it amazing that her eyes never left his face, but they seemed to be searching for another answer. Deciding to stop beating around the bush he blurted out, "Sam's dead."

After those words were spoken her eyes filled and she didn't even try to stem the flow. She knew how it happened and didn't have to ask but found herself asking anyway, "How are you doing with this?"

"How do you think I'm doing? I just drove almost three hours to tell you this and have no clue why I did it." He replied swiping at his eyes. He knew better than being mean, but unfortunately he wasn't in the world's greatest mood.

She nodded and stood to get the cups and tea bags. Her legs felt like jell-o, the idea of Sam being dead was absurd and her mind had a hard time wrapping around the possibility. Truth was she hadn't heard from him in months and she had been worried but that stemmed from being around the two of them.

"Look I'm sorry." he sighed heavily.

"No it's perfectly fine. I understand perfectly Dean. I mean never mind that he meant something to other people." she retorted, "It's just that he was only important to you."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." So much for that comfort he'd been looking for so long.

Slapping the cups on the counter she turned toward him. "Newsflash Dean, Sam was a good guy but he did what he wanted no matter what. Somehow I think that comes from the Winchester pride and manhood. It seems to run in the family."

He shook his head, he hadn't wanted a fight. He was just too tired and too emotionally injured to try and keep up with her. That had been one of the bad things about trying to get along with her, she had temper to match his and often stood toe-to-toe on some issues; Sam mainly the biggest. It was, however, her best defense when ever she was upset; she preferred to get pissed off, like him. This time was different though, they were both hurting and hurling insults at each other wouldn't work.

Standing he walked over to her. Softly he drew her into his arms and pressed his lips to the top of her head, "I'm sorry."

"Don't," She replied simply, "Dean no matter what you say or think his death wasn't your fault. He loved you and admired you."

"How do you know?" he asked sullenly.

Pulling herself out of his grasp and went to the hall closet. She'd kept it for a reason and now she knew why because he needed to realize that what happened just happened and the fault lay on the side of evil. Grabbing the yellowed sheet of paper she thought for a second about him, he'd been friends with her since fourth grade and how they stayed in touch, she didn't have a clue.

Walking into the kitchen she laid the paper on the counter. "Read."

Licking his lips he picked it up and began:

_**The Greatest Hero**_

_I was told to do this essay by my teacher and it took me awhile to get my thoughts together. It's lucky for me I have such good friends and I'm not just talking about Sakina, whose looking over my shoulder as I write. I'm speaking about my brother, Dean. He's my best friend and the greatest person in my life._

_What is it about Dean that makes him so great? How about the times when I was little and he read me bedtime stories because my dad was out hunting? Dean did everything for me, from tucking me in to lying to me about what happened to my mom. While he tried to mask his sadness from when I'd bring her up, the quick flash of it would register on his face. _

_He was never able to have the best childhood since had to take care of me. He grew up too quickly, but I figure if I asked him in the future if he regretted it, he'd say no. Dean does what he can to protect me but eventually he's going to figure out that I can't be placed under lock and key, and that he can't protect me all the time._

_One time he gave me the rest of the Lucky Charms, even though he hadn't had any, because I had dropped my bowl on the floor. That particular memory will stay with me forever as I hope to return the favor one day. I never forgave myself for begging for the cereal._

_Dean wasn't a famous person, just my big brother. Yet, because of everything he's done for me that makes him my greatest hero. He loves me and I love him, maybe we never say it as much as we need to but, it's there always in the back of my mind. Dean Marcus Winchester, my big brother whom I love and my hero, and I'll always know it._

Sakina watched his facial expressions and felt her heart breaking. He had no clue did he? Sam must have never shown him the finished product. "That's only the rough draft and Sam wanted to throw it way because he was afraid of being too mushy."

Dean gave a low laugh, not wanting to cry. "Figures he'd think about that. What'd he get on that?"

"An A and then the class voted on them and his was voted favorite in the room. He got a free choice of a book. He picked, '_Sherlock Holmes_' and if I recall he gave it to you for your birthday."

He nodded. It was the one book he'd re-read because it had come for Sam. He considered it the best birthday present he'd ever received. He felt the hot tears running down his cheeks and looked at her.

She giggled. "Forgot to turn the water on. Listen its late why don't you come up to bed? You can go back in the morning."

"Thanks." He said, setting the paper back on the counter. "Your name suits you. That's why I came, because you offer comfort without ever coming right out and saying it."

"He was my friend too Dean. Don't forget that. I loved him no matter what and it looks like you come with the package. The guest room has sheets on the bed already."

His chin trembled. "He's gone isn't he? He's really gone?"

"By the sounds of it yes he is, but only in physical way. He's always with us in spirit. We'll always miss him. Who knows maybe one day we'll be able to make deals with death?" She said with quivering lips. "Night Dean."

Sniffling he replied, "Night Kina."

She never thought that'd be her last day seeing him. Yet when she woke up in the morning he was gone with a note that said 'Thank You'. Tears had soaked the paper and smeared the ink but she could make it out just fine.


End file.
